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I've always known I was different, even as a boy. While other boys fantasized about growing up to become policeman, and firemen. I dreamed of writing poetry with Lord Byron, of drinking with Edgar Allan Poe, and of waltzing in a ballroom while Beethoven played fluid tunes from some candlelit corner. Not to say I ddin't get into my fair share of roughhousing and typical boy mischief I've always been an adventurer. While others played tag, and Hide & Seek, I sailed the Seven Seas under a pirate flag on Queen Anne's Revenge. Or looked through telescopes at the wonders of the universe with Galileo. Even now, at 29 years of age the world still holds a certain fresh wonder for me. But, sometimes I sit back and look out at the world and all of pain, and chaos that it hold and it hurts. All of this going on and the world's beautiful mystery is drowned and overrcome by it all. I think that's why I find such beauty in youth, it's yet to be overcome and picked over by the world. Does that make any sense?
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